


Regret

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol, Angst, Drugs, Explicit Language, Frottage, M/M, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-15
Updated: 2011-12-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regret is such a clouded concept. One would assume to regret would be to wish that something never happened at all. One might even say regret is the starting place of all evil and sin in the depths of a black heart. But truth be told, regret can also be something else completely. The regret of a heart is completely different than the regret of a mind. I regret that I never spoke certain words. I regret that I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me in the beginning. But I do not regret that I acted the way that I did, that I hid myself away from the truth for so long. And the problem there is that it's all the very same concept, the very same thing. I regret and I do not regret, all at once. A conundrum for certain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piratesbabe123](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=piratesbabe123).



> Beta Readers: gothic_hime  
> Their Request: Kaoru (top) x Kyo (bottom), any Kyo pairings are good though. Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort with loads of smut.  
> This fic is for the [](http://direngrey-yaoi.livejournal.com/profile)[**direngrey_yaoi**](http://direngrey-yaoi.livejournal.com/) Secret Santa Exchange! It was written for [](http://piratesbabe123.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://piratesbabe123.livejournal.com/)**piratesbabe123**. Happy Holidays!

_Every man has his secret sorrows, which the world knows not. And often times we call a man cold; when he is only sad._  
\- Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Regret is such a clouded concept. One would assume to regret would be to wish that something never happened at all. One might even say regret is the starting place of all evil and sin in the depths of a black heart. But truth be told, regret can also be something else completely. The regret of a heart is completely different than the regret of a mind. I regret that I never spoke certain words. I regret that I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me in the beginning. But I do not regret that I acted the way that I did, that I hid myself away from the truth for so long. And the problem there is that it's all the very same concept, the very same thing. I regret and I do not regret, all at once. A conundrum for certain.

Maybe I should be a little clearer... a little less vague as to what I'm speaking about. Or maybe I could leave the whole thing shrouded in complete darkness and only allude to the truth. But that seems too close to what I've been doing for years and it seems I should be honest somewhere about all of those moments that I regret and yet do not regret.

It all started about fourteen years ago. The day he walked into my life. All smiles and drunken chumminess. And yet, under that a complete leader at heart. He had so many problems before we parted ways with Kisaki. When it came time for us to start anew, he assumed the rightful position of leader and I remember how I just smiled at him, smiled and watched him slip into his role. On that day, I understood we'd go far. Everyone else saw potential for failure. Only I saw potential for greatness.

Maybe hard to imagine. Me being the one to think positively, to stand there and face the world with the attitude that together we'd conquer our part and reap our spoils. But see, there's a front I let the world see and then there's the creature that lives beneath it all, hidden away least someone take out the big guns for a fight. I think it truly took me years to realize just how much I was trying to protect myself with the hard outer coating and how much I was hiding right under. Truth be told, everyone has something to hide. Everyone has their own secret sorrows and desires. And me... I'm chock-full of them.

Years fluttered past us, a rush of contracts and lives, songs and albums. Practice and pain. And for me, it was a test of how much my body could endure. I've put myself through a hell that only I know of in the end. Inside my mind is a place that few have ever ventured to go... and less have been let into. Somewhere along the way, I realized where I was, what I was doing and where my heart had decided to rush off to on its own. But even living in that realization, I never once let it stop me along my path.

I think the physical aspect of my abuse - and I use the term lightly - to my body started late one night in a club deep in the heart of Tokyo. Our band had just finished up a set and we'd all gone out after to celebrate. The others chose their booze for the night, a bottle each and I found that I thought them crazy for it. My alcohol tolerance left a lot to be desired and I tried to avoid it as much as possible. For my part, I went to find celebration of another kind. The back room of the club; barely lit with deep burgundy leather and black velvet. A few dusty lamps and a collection of the more illicit characters in the city. I settled amongst the few I knew and partook of what I was offered. The crinkle of aluminum foil and flick of a lighter. The grind of a boy roughly my age against my crotch as I reclined there on the couch between two of my deeper sins.

The sweet scent on the air is a memory that is still crystal clear for me, something that marked at least four years of my life on a fairly regular basis. The sex that night was nothing short of amazing, taking me to a place higher than I'd ever been with physical contact. Hours later, I found the band once again and they were somehow none the wiser on what had transpired.

Now that I look back on it, I wonder how I lived so far out on the edge and never once even came near to getting caught because of it. More, I wonder how it is that I ever stopped chasing the dragon. That part is a bit of blur, I only really remember that I finally tired of it all and the frequency dwindled and then disappeared completely. I suppose like with most everything else in my life, it came and it went. Most everything I ever tried went that way. Few things remained constant over the years. Out of those, it was always one person that I kept settling back on, finding that meant the most. And then one day, I completely opened up my eyes and saw him for what he truly was to me.

We were standing in the dressing room after a show and I'd been on a kick of rather public self-harm. Razor blades and my fists were two of my favorite stage props. It wasn't that I was depressed or even that I had such a deep-seated pain that I needed to share. I just felt that it got the message across more... that when I drew from the strength of the audience, I found that it was this that they related to the most. I gave them my body and showed them the pain, the violence, the excitement that got them all in an uproar. Physicality at its finest. What I couldn't force my words or my voice to do for me, my actions did instead. It was primal instinct and I reveled in causing what I did, in watching them scream for my very blood, for my agony.

But that night, I had maybe gone a little far. It was the final of the tour and I knew I didn't have to look good for the next day, so I'd let go of myself, just gone all out. My blood had run and my fists had pummeled until my body would surely bruise in the morning. Less of the superficial and more as though I were tearing myself apart right there on stage.

When it was all said and done, Kaoru was the one who came to me. He was the one to help me clean up and bandage after my shower, to give me some cream to help stop the bruising from being so bad. And for the first time, I let him hold me. I leaned into his touch in the pretext of needing it because of what I'd done to myself. But inside, I knew it wasn't because of that. Somewhere along the way, I'd taken a left turn at sanity and headed straight into the little village of love.

Of course, he never knew. He just held me and told me how I didn't have to do this to myself for the pleasure of the audience. And for my part, I simply held him tight and allowed myself the moment of my dreams.

The only problem was that it was only the beginning of my loss of true sanity. Because I knew where I was in my feelings for him, I drove myself closer and closer to that breaking point, pushing myself through hell simply because I could. I denied it every chance I got and I went so far as to push myself into a two year relationship that was nothing if not utter agony for me. It was completely wrong for me, rooted in my darkness rather than my light and born of a rash decision while with a group of long-time friends.

It drained me to the point that I couldn't even begin to understand, my emotions all over the place and the truth marked over my entire body so that I had to hide it away some days. I think worse was the fact that I knew what was going on and I simply let it. Some part of me was under the impression that I could let it boil away my feelings for Kaoru, that if I hurt enough it would build my walls high enough I could ignore the truth.

But, in reality, it made me long for him even more. I found myself hanging around him more often, dropping by out of nowhere and making up reasons for why. I know it raised his suspicions, put him more on alert. Because I just wasn't like that. And one night, it all exploded on me. I couldn't stand what I'd put myself into any longer and I came to Kaoru for the comfort I desperately needed.

He'd been drinking and smelled of expensive whiskey and just a hint of sour. And I stood there on his doorstep, dripping from the rain, my face a mix of pain and fear. He let me in without question, just leading me to the bathroom and giving me a towel and turning on the shower on hot. It was then that I realized I was shaking like a leaf. But it wasn’t just from the cold. My relationship had fallen apart to the point that we'd full-on gotten into it. The knock-down-drag-out kind of fight that never ended well for one person. And that person had been me in that particular case. He'd had his way with me one last time, the way that I'd let happen so often and yet never once enjoyed.

I washed myself clean of my sins and when I pushed his black shower curtain back, I found a change of clothing for me, all of mine gone and my belongings on the counter top. I put on his boxers and his jeans, and then his t-shirt, pausing to smell it and allowing myself that moment of comfort from something as small as a simple smell. And once I was done, I left the room, coming to find him in the living room. He had two drinks on the table, though I was certain he knew I'd probably not take more than two sips from the glass. It was a deep rust in color and I suspected it to be what he was drinking, though heavy on the sour and light on the whiskey. One sip proved me right and I kept the glass in my hands as I settled back on the couch, tears coming to my eyes but not spilling over.

He didn't ask, not for several hours. And when he did, it wasn't the question I expected. No 'what happened' or 'were you raped'. Rather, he came out with, "Is it over?" When I turned my eyes on him, he looked somehow worried and pissed off at the same time. I gave him a brief nod as reply and he returned, "Good." The silence prevailed for almost another half an hour and finally I was done with the single drink he'd given me, putting the cup aside with a sort of warm feeling in my belly.

It was then that he acted, that he put his cigarette aside and shifted to face me, bringing me close without asking me if he could or not. I fit perfectly between his legs and when my back came to rest against his chest, I felt only safety and warmth. My head leaned on his shoulder and my eyes slipped closed of their own accord.

When I awoke, it was almost dawn and I was in bed, only the t-shirt and boxers I'd been loaned remaining on my body. Someone warm was pressed up against me from behind, one naked leg over my own and the heat of arousal pressing against my ass. Everything smelled of Kaoru, almost to the point of stifling. My erection came to life with a mind of its own, swelling and pressing against the fabric of the boxers that hid it from view. My pulse raced and my breathing shallowed out. Behind me, he shifted and then yawned, stretching toward me, poking me even more and making me let out a little moan that I couldn't prevent.

He still smelled heavily of whiskey, maybe more than he had before I'd fallen asleep in his arms on the couch. And I wondered for a moment if maybe he was doing this on purpose. My pants and his were gone, his arm was around me somehow protectively and he didn't seem to care in the least that his cock was pressing so harshly against me from behind, though the normal Kaoru I knew would have been horrified that he'd even gotten an erection where anyone could see, much less feel.

I sighed softly and then moved to clasp his hand in my own, murmuring, "Have you ever made a huge mistake that you wish you could regret... and yet, somehow do not?"

From behind me came a soft grunt of agreement and then in sleep-heavy words, "I have. We all have. It's human."

I left It at that, part of me wishing he'd say something more and part of me wishing he'd just act on his obvious arousal. I'd never stop him. It'd be against everything I wanted from him to stop him. But after several long minutes, I gave up on that dream, closing my eyes again and just hoping that sometime during the night my arousal would abate itself.

Hours later, I was pulled out of a rather sensual dream and back into reality by my body being jostled around. I was half on my stomach, one arm under the pillow beneath my head and the other sprawled out to the side. My boxers were around my upper thighs and warm hands gripped my hips, fingers stroking the flesh there, over the bruises I knew were present. My dick was still hard and completely out of the boxers, the tip pressing against the bed, leaving a slightly wet smear from the nature of my dreams I could only assume.

Kaoru's voice whispered out, "Are you awake? Tell me you're awake, Kyo. Please. I need you to be awake now."

I let out a soft sigh and then nodded a little, my cheek rubbing against the pillow. "Yes."

"You're bruised everywhere," he informed me, touching another bruise on my back, near to my spine. "What did he do to you? Tell me you did worse."

"I did worse," I told him, feeling as though I had turned on a setting that told Kaoru everything he wanted to hear. The truth was, I hadn't. He'd been too powerful for me in the end and I'd just given up, letting him do as he pleased to get it over with.

He turned me a bit in the other direction and I could finally see his face, filled with such worry. It changed quickly into shock and then embarrassment. "I - er -," he stuttered out, his touch leaving my thighs and his gaze unwavering from my body.

My eyes slid down to see what horror he was experiencing, only to find that my dick was, indeed, on full display, achingly hard. My balls were drawn up tight just from the little bit of touching he'd done, poised to give up my offering at a moment's notice. I could have grabbed myself right then and given a few firm strokes in order to lose it. So close. So achingly close. And he was witness to the entire spectacle, staring right at it.

"Good dream," he finally choked out, less of a question and more of a statement.

Without missing a single beat, I retorted, "No, a nice touch."

He looked choked up for a moment and then cleared his throat, eyes sliding up to my face, as if trying to gauge the truth of my words.

"Do what he never could, Kaoru," I requested quietly, my hips pushing up to accentuate my point.

His hand was almost hesitant as he reached out, trembling fingers finally wrapping around my shaft and starting to stroke. One firm stroke, and then two, and on the third, my head fell back and I let out a pleased cry, my balls tightening up to the maximum they possibly could, my cock throbbing at his touch, knowing the next would be the last. His free hand touched my side and he gave one more stroke and that was all I needed. My cum spurted out across his fingers and the borrowed t-shirt, splattering all the up to my chest with the force of my orgasm.

He milked me until I was empty, his other hand exploring my body. First my thigh and then my side and down over my neatly trimmed hair and around to hold my heavy balls In his palm before he slid it up under my shirt and tweaked on nipple ever so lightly. Letting go of my cock, he set about getting me completely naked and then freeing his own erection from his boxer briefs. His hand guided mine down to touch him as he hovered over me, his mouth closing over my own as he rocked into my touch over and over.

I kissed him with years of desperate need for him and him alone. My legs wrapped around his waist and tugged him down, trying to give him the hint that I would let him take me if only he wanted it. All the while, I worked his dick almost desperately, as though his arousal were an extension of my own. He was so hard in my hand, as though he'd actually enjoyed taking care of my arousal, something I hadn't been used to in a long while now. And in some small way, it surprised me that he'd actually want me.

His mouth moved from my lips to my neck, sucking at the small bit of unmarked flesh there in a way I knew would leave a bruise of a different kind. His hands moved, pushing my own away and then stripping himself of his own boxers, leaving him equally as naked as I was. A small amount of fumbling around and when his hand came back to stroking at my dick, it was slick with lubricant. He worked me back up into full hardness and then pressed himself close, his dick slipping against my own, his hips jerking slightly as he groaned.

Eventually, he shifted away, sitting up a bit and taking my own hands, giving me a little bit of the lube as well and then wrapping my hands around both of our dicks. He shifted back over me, spreading his legs and mine a little more. Watching down between us, he started to thrust into my hands as though he were penetrating me. I could feel it all, his dick sliding against mine and into the passage I'd created with my hands. The press of his pubic bone as he pushed all the way in and then the slip of the head of his cock as he almost pulled too far out each time, only to thrust back in with renewed fervor. He claimed me without actually claiming me fully and it amazed me that I could feel like this from something so simple.

His hands braced on either side of me, the slick sound of him fucking against me filling the room as the intensity ramped up. His thrusts became more and more frantic, shallower as he neared his peak. The look on his face, the way he moved, and the feeling of his body so close to my own all pulled me right along with him. I ached for release and I could tell he did as well. One of his hands curled over the edge of the mattress behind me as he looked back down between us, watching what he was doing. The pace quickened even more and then he was letting out the most amazing sounds, his cock throbbing against my own. He stilled, pushed all the way against my hands, a look of pure bliss on his face. Half a second later, warmth splashed out over my stomach and my cock and I groaned, unable to take it.

My own hips began pistoning, forcing my cock in and out of the makeshift fuck-hole I'd made with my own hands. Only half a minute later, I gave up, just using both my hands to jerk us both off furiously, my body writhing under his as I neared my peak. And then I was gone, flying over the edge and making a bigger mess all over myself, my cry echoing off the walls of his bedroom.

After, we lay there together, neither of us talking about it, just sort of reveling in the act and the remaining presence.

And it was that morning, as the sun slipped in through the windows, that I knew my life had been simply existing to lead us to this point. In one simple night, years of emotion and longing had come to fruition. I'd been both ultimately broken and repaired. Everything I'd come to expect to never be came alive.

Less than a month later, we settled on the mutual agreement that we worked well enough together that it wouldn’t be a problem. We agreed to leave the band out of it all, to let our relationship be as separate as it could possibly be, though neither of us were deluded enough to think that we could leave it out completely.

As I look back on it now, only a mere two months down the line, I realize that I was the fool. The looks he gives me now are the looks he always gave me. The touches are the same, if not a bit more frequent when we're in public. And the words he gives me in private, meant only for my own ears are the sweetest things that I've ever heard. The two of us... we fit together like a pair of gloves. One just does not work without the other, and together make a wonderful concept and execution.

But when I look back on it all... I both regret and do not regret. I regret the circumstance, but not the result. And that... is all that matters.

**The End**  



End file.
